


We Just Couldn't Say Goodbye

by Poplitealqueen



Series: AtS Fanfic [1]
Category: Awaken the Stars Series - Jer Keene
Genre: Awaken the Stars, Ficlet, M/M, talking our feelings out? no we kiss like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-18 00:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12377172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poplitealqueen/pseuds/Poplitealqueen
Summary: It's 1956, and Django returns home.





	We Just Couldn't Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ashleshā](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6876577) by [flamethrower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower/pseuds/flamethrower). 



> SO. _*claps*_ How many of you have read Ashlesha by Jer Keene yet? Probably quite a few considering how connected this profile is to my Tumblr, but for those that have not, well, you should. I've lowkey become a teensy bit utterly and painfully enamored with it, and I wish to drag others down with me.
> 
> This isn't the first time I'm posting this ficlet. In fact, it's been on Tumblr for a good while, but I'm cleaning house so to speak, so I thought, "Hey, what the hell? Let's post it more places!"
> 
> Thanks for reading! SUPPORT THE OFFICIAL RELEASE AND BUY THE BOOK IT'S LIKE 8 BUCKS FOR KINDLE.
> 
> Love, Pop
> 
> PS: I'm still not sure yet if Euan was going by Euan by this point in time. Let's just assume he wasn't. I could ask the author, but I'm shy (even though I fucking _gifted_ this to her. I don't know my own mind)
> 
> PSS: Éoghan is pronounced Yoh-ahn. Euan is pronounced You-ahn. You're welcome I've saved your brain like mine was just saved.

Éoghan feels like a dice being shaken around in a cup as the 1952 Buick he’d been so graciously lended for this particular excursion bounces across the bumpy, rocky road to the Whetū farmhouse. The sun is just beginning to set, highlighting the sky in shades of fire, and convincing him even more that they took a wrong turn somewhere and went from Pennsylvania straight to the Hell.

Beside him, Django is as silent as stone, and part of Éoghan is definitely thankful for that. He still doesn’t know what he wants to say.

The farmhouse comes into view within a few minutes, completely dark. It reminds Éoghan of a skeleton, an empty husk. He knew things would be different with Django’s parents and sister gone, but to see this once bright place so dark… Éoghan has never been the praying sort, but he mutters a prayer as he parks the car.

Django doesn’t move or say a word, not when Éoghan pops the trunk or when Éoghan unlocks the door for him. He just sits there, staring at his home with glassy eyes.

Éoghan feels a weight settle in his stomach, followed by a rolling wave of frustration. This is already hard enough, damn it.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Éoghan asks, his words sharp and clipped.

Django only shakes his head. “You should leave," he finally says, his voice soft and hoarse.

Éoghan smiles a grim smile. He doesn’t need Django to explain what he means, but he knows he doesn’t mean that Éoghan should leave the farmhouse. He means that Éoghan should leave the program.

“You know I can’t,” says Éoghan, but he can’t continue after that. He doesn’t really have a reason, in all honesty. He just doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if he did.

“Horseshit,” Django scoffs, and finally opens the car door. He pulls himself out and walks to the back of the car to grab his suitcase from the trunk. After he’s gotten it, he walks around to the other side of the car and raps a knuckle on Éoghan’s window. Éoghan cranks it down and looks up at Django.

The sky is darkening to a deep purple behind Django’s head, and in the coming twilight Éoghan can’t make out the details of his face. By the tone of his words, however, he can tell that Django is frowning.

“You’re welcome to come by anytime,” he says, the words sounding like they were memorized, spoken by rote.

“Thanks,” Éoghan says, with just as little emotion. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He expects Django to walk to the farmhouse door then, and both figuratively and literally walk out of Éoghan's life altogether, but Django doesn’t move. He remains standing by Éoghan’s window, utterly quiet.

Suddenly, he shifts down to Éoghan’s level, until their faces are only inches apart. Éoghan is the one that closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against Django’s in one chaste kiss.

When they pull away from each other, Éoghan feels a wetness in his eyes that doesn’t fall down his cheeks. Fuck. He leans back against his seat and closes his eyes to compose himself as Django straightens back up.

“Take care of yourself, English,” Django says, enough emotion back in his words to make him sound like he meant them.

Éoghan snorts, and cracks his eyes open. He turns the car back on without really looking at the controls.

“Fuck you. Stay safe,” he says sweetly, and drives off.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this ficlet is taken from the song of the same name sung by Martha Davis. [Here's a link, you should listen to it and feel some feelings about Euan/Django with me.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oCmJLruH_nI)


End file.
